Blooming Marvellous
by thearrowsoflegolas
Summary: Just another Sterek flower-shop AU. Derek works himself to death, and despite his shop-assistant Erica's best efforts, he remains single. That is, until a mysterious stranger comes in one day, makes Derek's head spin, and orders ten white roses.
1. Chapter 1

"Hi there, I'm looking for some roses for my wife, it's our ten-year anniversary tomorrow, and I was looking to get her something special," the middle aged man said, reaching into his wallet to pull out a bunch of crisp dollar bills.

Derek Hale smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and ran a hand over the light stubble on his chin.

"And what colour roses would you like, sir?" he asked, his voice deep, but friendly.

"Red."

"Certainly, just one moment."

Derek stood up, and walked into the back room. And sighed. The whole room was full to the brim with every flower imaginable. Bright blue forget-me nots lined one wall, and right next to them were bundles of foxgloves and tulips. Where the hell were the red roses?

"Roses… roses…" he muttered, sifting through daffodils and irises, keeping his eyes peeled for a speck of ruby red.

He turned around, and his broad shoulder caught on a large cardboard box full of flower feed, knocking it to the ground and spilling sachets of 'Green & Healthy' across the already littered floor.

"Shit," he muttered, bending down to pick them up, and hitting his head on a protruding wooden shelf in the process. Ouch. That bloody hurt.

"Everything all right in there, buddy?" he heard the man call out.

"Um hmm, yep, just fine," Derek managed to reply through gritted teeth, rubbing his throbbing temple with one hand, and balancing himself with the other.

He continued to wade his way through petunias and lilies, to finally find a large stack of red roses hidden behind a pot of delilahs.

"Found you…"

He was really going to have to organise his inventory.

"How many would you like, sir?" He called out, his voice slightly muffled by the multitude of flowers around him, "We do a special deal, ten flowers for five dollars."

"Oh, well, go on then, I'll take ten." He heard the man's reply.

"Ten red roses…" Derek muttered to himself, counting out the flowers and bringing them out to the front of the shop, arranging them in coloured plastic and tying them with a red ribbon.

"Here you go sir, that'll be five dollars, please."

The man payed, smiled, and left the shop, and Derek let out a huge sigh, slumped back into his chair, and slammed his head into the desk, rubbing a hand through his dark hair.

He was exhausted.

Even with the extra help that he had hired over the past few weeks, he had been up most nights trying to balance the books. Of course, getting his own flower shop had been a dream come true when it had happened, but as the years went by, he had found that it was a lot harder to manage than he had thought. He was often forced to work 12 hours a day, 7 days a week, meaning that any relationship he had attempted to have had eventually nose-dived into the dirt. He had no time for love anymore.

"Hey, boss, you okay?"

He lifted his head up, his green eyes meeting with hazel, as he saw Erica looking down at him with a worried expression, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. He had hired Erica about three weeks ago, and he had to admit that having another face around every day had helped him to stay sane.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine…" he mumbled, looking up at her.

"You've got a little..." she gestured to his head, and Derek lifted his hand to it. It came away red. Shit. He'd knocked it looking for the roses, and must have split the skin. Could this day get any worse?

"Oh, I'm fine, honestly," he said, dabbing at the blood with a tissue.

"If you're sure, boss." Erica said, though she didn't sound convinced, "Got any jobs for me?"

"Please, call me Derek," he said, "And actually, there is something that you could help me with..."

"Ok I've got six bunches of petunias here,"

Derek looked up from the hydrangeas he was organising into a pot, before ticking them off on the list on his clipboard.

"Um… petunias, petunias… could you put them there next to the primulas."

Erica placed the bundles on the shelf, and Derek crossed them off his inventory. The two had been organising the flowers in the storage room for the last three hours, and it finally appeared as if they were getting somewhere.

"Tea break?" asked Erica, and Derek slumped down next to a basket of ribbon and nodded.

"I'll put the kettle on."

Erica walked from the room into the small kitchen at the back of the storage room, humming to herself, and Derek allowed himself the first rest he had had all day.

His eyes were just closing when he heard a low voice from the front of the shop.

"Um, hi? Is anyone here?"

A loud groan came from Derek. He considered just staying hidden and leaving the customer to make his own way out, but eventually thought better of it, and pushed himself up from the pollen-covered floor, to see that his clothing was totally covered in pollen. Bollocks.

Dusting the orange powder off his trousers, he stepped out into the front of the shop, standing behind the counter.

"Hello?" he said out loud, looking for the source of the intrusion.

"Oh hi," came the voice from behind a bouquet of lilies.

A slim man stepped out from behind the flowers, his hands nervously tucked into the pockets of his skinny jeans, and his white shirt hung expertly from his narrow shoulders, hugging his torso. He was young, Derek noted, around 25. Not unattractive either. He was pale, clean shaven, and his clear face was dotted with moles. Moles that Derek, for some reason, desperately wanted to lick.

A blush crept up Derek's face. Where the hell had that come from? The poor guy was probably just here to pick up some flowers for his girlfriend or something, for God's sake.

Derek realised he was staring, slightly too late, and his face broke out into his 'customer' smile, the joy not reaching his tired eyes.

"How can I help you today, sir?" he asked, valiantly trying to prevent his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

"Oh, um, I'm looking for some white roses, please." The man replied, and Derek nodded.

"Lucky girl…" he muttered, turning to go through the door into the inventory.

"Pardon?" asked the customer, and Derek froze.

Shit.

He had heard him.

"Oh, um, I was just saying that she's lucky… your girlfriend… what with a guy buying her roses and all…"

Derek could have been sucked into a hole in the floor at that moment, and it would have been preferable to having to look back at white-shirt man with a face he was sure was brick red.

The guy chuckled, and Derek's hear skipped a beat. Holy shit, he was 28, not 18, he should NOT be this nervous in front of a guy.

"No girlfriend," the man replied, "these are for my mom, actually."

"Oh, lovely," replied Derek, trying to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. So he was unattached. That was good.

Derek nodded again awkwardly before turning around, and walking into the storage room, to see Erica leaning against large stack of cardboard boxes, a cup of tea in her hand and an evil grin on her face.

"Who's that?" she asked innocently.

"A customer, who does it look like?" answered Derek sharply, instantly finding the white roses. Organising the inventory had truly done wonders.

"His girlfriend would be lucky eh?" Erica continued, a smirk spreading across her pixie-like features.

"Fuck off." Derek replied simply, leaving her giggling to herself as he exited the room back into the front of the store, a large bunch of white roses in his hands.

"How many would you like? We have a deal at the moment. Ten flowers for-"

"Five dollars, yeah, I saw the poster outside," replied white-shirt man, grinning.

Derek smiled with him, and counted out the roses, taking the five dollars and putting it in the till.

"What did you do to your head?" white-shirt asked, gesturing to the gash in Derek's forehead.

"I had an argument with a shelf" Derek deadpanned, and a burst of laughter escaped from white-shirt's mouth. The sound was so infectious that Derek couldn't help but grin as well.

"Well I hope you won," white-shirt replied, lifting up his flowers and taking a deep inhale, smelling them.

Jesus, Derek was struggling not to leap over the desk and jump him there and then.

"And by the way, my name's Stiles."

And with that, white-shirt gave a last smile, turned around, and sauntered out of the shop., the roses grasped tightly in his right hand.

Something told Derek that his job was about to get a hell of a lot more interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles.

So he had a name now.

Derek figured he couldn't keep on calling the guy 'white-shirt man' in his head. But 'Stiles'? It was strange. Unique. Different. And it had been on Derek's mind all bloody week.

Usually all Derek thought about was flowers. Flowers and profits and store management, but more and more times, he had found himself waking up in the middle of the night with the image of a cheeky grin and a face covered in moles still lingering in the back of his mind.

"Get a hold of yourself, Hale…" he muttered, leaning against the wooden counter next to the till, checking orders of flowers off a clipboard.

"What light through yonder window breaks," said Erica in a sing-song voice, walking past Derek, struggling with a large brown cardboard box of plant feed, "It is the east-"

"Don't say it,"

"And Stiles the sun," finished Erica, winking as she attempted to lumber the box into the storage room.

"Piss off," replied Derek, oh so eloquently, but Erica just laughed, and used her knee to straighten the box, before trying again, in vain, to fit it through the door to the storage room.

Derek sighed, shook his head, and stood up, taking the box out of Erica's hands, and carrying it through himself. Sure, she could be an ass, but she kept him from climbing the walls, so he had to give her credit where credit was due. He was beginning to regret telling her about Stiles, though.

He hadn't told her everything, of course. He hadn't told her the way that the moles on his face looked like a dot-to-dot puzzle that he wanted to solve. He hadn't told her how his tongue had stuck to the inside of his mouth the first time he had seen him smile. He _definitely_ hadn't told her about how every time the bell on the door rang, he jumped up, hoping to see Stiles walking through the shop.

Nope. That would just make her even more unbearable.

He'd only told her the basics. The guy was called Stiles. He was cute. Derek had a bit of a crush. That was all.

Derek ran a hand over his chin, and grimaced at the stubble-burn. He was going to have to have a shave.

The bell on the door rang, and Derek jumped up, practically sprinting to the counter. He heard Erica chuckle to herself from the small kitchen, but shook off his irritation. A short, slightly overweight man with a receding hairline and watery eyes stepped out from behind a large bunch of hydrangeas, and Derek struggled to not audibly sigh in disappointment. No Stiles. Yet again.

The man was looking for a bunch of 'Summer flowers', as he put it, for his wife.

"We've been together for seven years, now." The man said proudly, and Derek smiled lifelessly.

'Alright, I get it. I'm single,' he thought, 'No need to rub it in.'

He manoeuvred his way into the storage room, grabbing handfuls of yellow sunflowers, blood red crocosimas and tiny orange freesias. This looked summery enough. Bringing them back out to the front of the store, Derek wrapped them up in yellow cellophane, tied a bow around them in orange ribbon, and presented them to the man.

"That'll be fifteen dollars, please,"

The man nodded, sifted a ten and a five dollar bill out of his wallet, and handed them both to Derek.

"Thanks a lot man," he said, "My wife will love these."

"I hope she does," replied Derek, "Please visit again sometime."

The man nodded, smiled, and sauntered away, leaving Derek to slouch a little, and slump into his chair, head in his hands. Erica bounced out of the storage room, looking far too happy with herself for Derek's liking.

"So it wasn't lover-boy hmm?" she asked.

"Go shove a chrysanthemum up your arse," Derek grumbled, resulting in Erica bursting into ringing laughter.

"Someone's grouchy today…" she continued, "I must have forgotten to water you this morning."

She picked up his arm from the desk, and let it go. It flopped back onto the wooden surface limply.

"You're practically wilting, my darling." She continued, and Derek couldn't help but crack a smile. Somehow, despite everything, Erica was still managing to make him laugh.

"Come on," she said, dragging him into the storage room with her, "Someone looks like they need a drink."

"I'm fine…" replied Derek, not wanting to cause a fuss.

"You're dehydrated."

"I'm FINE, Erica…"

"Derek," Erica said, stopping him in his tracks and giving him a cold, hard, stare, "Have you had a drink all day?"

"Well no… but…"

"Iris my case." Erica said haughtily.

"What?"

"Iris my case…" she replied, a smirk playing on her lips, "Iris… the flower… like 'I REST my case', but It's a flower… so I said-"

"Okay okay I get it. Stop explaining your crappy flower puns to me," Derek interrupted, shaking his head and smiling despite himself.

"Cup of tea?" asked Erica, sauntering her way into the little kitchen at the back of the storage room.

"I'd love one, thanks." Derek replied, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand, and perching next to a bunch of petunias and a stack of Plant Care leaflets.

He'd been up all night. Not working, unusually, but reading, of all things. Erica had lent him her copy of _A Catcher in the Rye_ , and despite his best efforts, he had been unable to put it down. He'd even gone as far as to bring it into work that morning with him, in the hope that in his coffee break, he could possibly read another chapter.

"How's 'Catcher'?" yelled Erica from the kitchen, as if reading his mind.

"Great!" he yelled back, "But I'm up to chapter 15 and nobody has caught any rye yet. What's up with that?" he joked.

Erica laughed, and he heard a quite chuckle from somewhere else.

"It's a metaphor." Came a low voice from inside the shop that made Derek's heart skip a beat.

Holy shit.

He was back.

Derek jumped up immediately, knocking the bundle of 'Plant Care' leaflets to the floor in his surprise.

"Oh balls," he muttered to himself. Was this man always going to cause him to make a twat out of himself?

"I could come back later if you're busy…?" the voice said uncertainly, and Derek all but shouted, "NO! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!"

Evidently, yes, this man _was_ going to cause him to constantly make a twat out of himself. That much was clear.

Derek stumbled out into the front of the shop, his hands full of leaflets entitled, 'Keep Those Plants Green!'

"You, know, I appreciate the sentiment, and I do need to keep my plants green, but are you sure I'm going to need _all_ of those leaflets?" Stiles asked, perching on the side of the counter in a way that made Derek's moth water, his hands once again tucked into the pockets of his jeans. His shirt though, this time, was black.

"I… um… sorry about that," Derek stuttered, dropping the handfuls of leaflets onto the counter, a few sliding off the pile and onto the floor.

The corner of Stiles' mouth twitched up, and he bent down to pick them up, giving Derek some time to compose himself.

Stiles stood up, placed the leaflets on the desk, and continued his previous conversation, "The title, 'The Catcher In The Rye' is a metaphor for 'catching' the innocence of children before it's lost in 'The Rye'."

He made air quotations with his fingers whilst talking, and Derek couldn't help noticing just how _long_ those fingers were. And _elegant_. Derek didn't usually look for elegance in a guy. He was about as graceful as a baby giraffe, so he didn't like the idea of constantly being shown up by someone who walked like a bloody Russian ballerina, but somehow, it worked on Stiles. Derek could watch him walk all day.

That was creepy.

He was staring again.

Stop staring, Derek.

Say something.

"Yeah I really liked the bit with the prostitute."

WHAT?!

WHY COULD HE NOT JUST CONVERSE LIKE A HUMAN BEING HOLY SHIT!

Stiles' eyebrow quirked up in confusion, and Derek struggled to explain himself.

"You know, in 'The Catcher In The Rye', where he goes out with that prostitute, but just wants to chat…"

"Aahh…" Stiles replied in understanding, "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's a real reminder to the reader of the naivety and innocence of Holden, as well as his attitudes towards women. Like, although he talks a big game about all the ladies he wants to sleep with, he never actually gets around to it, or he bottles out at the last minute. I don't know, it's almost like he's afraid of something."

Holy shit.

Hot and smart.

Hot and smart.

Derek was finding it difficult to breathe.

"Anyway," continued Stiles, "I was wondering if I could get some purple lilies? About five? It's my sister's birthday tomorrow."

"Oh. Yes. Of course," replied Derek, practically sprinting into the storage room to find the lilies. He saw Erica, leaning nonchalantly on a protruding shelf, a large mug of tea in her hand.

"This guy's always interrupting our tea breaks…"

"Shut up. Shut up, he can hear you," Derek whispered, searching for the purple lilies.

Erica jumped down from her spot, landing gracefully, and bent down to reach under the shelf to pull out a handful of purple flowers. She handed them to Derek and winked.

"Go get him, tiger," she whispered.

Derek mouthed a very angry 'Fuck you,' to her, before walking back into the main store and handing the lilies to Stiles.

"That'll be… um…"

His mind had gone totally blank. Where was he going with this?

"Five dollars!" shouted Erica from the storage room, and for once in his life, Derek was glad that she was eavesdropping in on his conversation.

"Yeah, sorry, five… um… five dollars please. Thanks."

Stiles counted out the money and handed it to Derek, his hand accidentally slightly brushing the older man's, causing Derek to imperceptibly hold his breath.

"Thanks again," smiled Stiles, apparently unaware of the reaction that he had caused in Derek, "See you soon!"

"Yeah, come again," shouted Derek after him as he walked away, and he turned and waved, before leaving the shop.

Derek let out a deep breath that he didn't realise he had been holding, and walked back into the storage room to find Erica with tears rolling down her cheeks, silently laughing herself into a coma.

"I… I…" she struggled out between gasping breaths, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

Derek said nothing, he merely glared at her with fire in his eyes until her laughs slowly subsided, and she was left giggling to herself, shaking her head.

"Come again?" she asked him, comically wiggling her eyebrows at the double entendre.

"Get me a cup of fucking tea and then fuck the fuck off." replied Derek sulkily, placing the remaining purple lilies back in their allotted place and running a hand through his already messed-up hair.

He was in shit.

Deep deep shit.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek was awake.

Again.

He rubbed his forehead with his hand and took a glance at the clock on the table next to him. 3:53 am. He was waking up at bloody 6:00 am to go to work, he needed some sleep.

"Just one more chapter…" he muttered to himself, turning the next page of 'The Catcher in the Rye'. He liked to convince himself that he was reading it because it was a good book, but he knew deep down that there was another reason. Stiles had read 'Catcher', and the next time he saw him, Derek was going to have a veritable wealth of J.D Salinger knowledge to draw upon to make him seem intelligent. And no, he wasn't going to admit that to Erica.

He didn't know why he was even bothering. Derek hadn't seen Stiles walk into his shop in at least two weeks, and it was getting him down. Erica saw it as well, and had even gone as far as to organise him a 'blind date' with her friend, Danny, but that hadn't gone too well. I mean, Danny was HOT and everything, but he didn't make Derek's heart thud against his chest, didn't make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, didn't have a face covered in very lickable moles. He tried to explain this all to Erica, but he didn't have to.

She got it.

Danny just wasn't… well… he wasn't Stiles…

Derek sighed and put the book down. He was being ridiculous, moping around like some love-struck teenager. For all he knew, Stiles could be recovering from a shitty breakup, or he could be straight, or he could have signed up to a life of abstinence by pledging to become a Catholic priest.

Anything was possible.

Now, though, Derek needed some sleep…

He lay down on his bed, still in his work clothes, and switched off the light.

"DEREK!" yelled Erica from outside the shop, "STOP MOPING AND GIVE ME A HAND WITH THESE FLOWERS!"

Derek let out a huff of air, and pushed himself up off his chair. He'd only just got into work, and he was already exhausted. Naturally, he blamed Stiles. That cute, skinny-jean wearing, novel-reading bastard had been keeping him awake for nights.

"OKAY I'M COMING!" he yelled back, dodging hanging baskets and bunches of hydrangeas and making his way out of the front door to see Erica struggling to carry a large bundle of geraniums out of the back of a lorry labelled 'Fresh Plant Delivery'.

"Here, let me give you a hand with that, you can take those…" he muttered, taking the geraniums from her and gesturing to a considerably smaller pile of forget-me-nots.

"You know, I appreciate the chivalry, sweetheart," Erica quipped, "But I'm pretty sure a bunch of geraniums won't break my back in two…"

Derek snorted, and nodded, "Yeah, what can I say? My mother brought me up well…"

"She sure as hell did," replied Erica, following Derek into the store with the forget-me-nots, "So, any news from lover-boy?"

"No," Derek replied simply.

"Shit, sorry man…"

"Don't worry about it, honestly," Derek said, placing the geraniums on a large shelf, and checking them off his clipboard, "I'm good."

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

Derek didn't answer. Erica sighed and sashayed past Derek into the storage room, sliding the bundle of forget-me-nots next to the fuscias and felicias.

"You need to get him off your mind, Hale." She stated simply, "What about Danny? That guy I introduced you to? He liked you."

Derek smiled at her, shook his head, and sat down on the spinning chair behind the counter "No, he wasn't my type."

"And by that you mean 'Can't discuss symbolism in 'The Catcher in the Rye' and has never made you practically shit yourself by ordering white roses'?"

Derek said nothing, and Erica smiled conspiratorially.

"Stiles, Stiles, wherefore art thou, Stiles?" She sang.

"Actually, 'wherefore' means 'why', not 'where'."

Both Erica and Derek jumped and spun around to face the intrusion. There, sillhouetted in the light of the doorway, was Stiles. Skinny jeaned and messy haired and as gorgeous as always. He was leaning on the doorframe, with one leg slightly bent and hips protruding in a way that Derek didn't even want to think about.

Erica hummed to herself, and walked away, winking secretly at Derek before she dissapeared into the back of the shop.

"Uhmm…" Derek started to say, but his tongue caught in the vack of his throat, so he coughed and tried again, "How... How much of that did you hear?"

Stiles laughed. A sound that went straight down Derek's spine.

"I only heard the last sentence, unfortunately. Why? Did you declare your undying love for me or something?"

Derek froze, then looked nervously at Stiles. There was a cheeky glint in his eye.

"And I never caught your name." Stiles continued, thankfully preventing Derek from having to answer his previous quiestion.

"Derek. I'm Derek."

Stiles sauntered into the shop and perched himself on the corner of the counter, picking up a plant care leaflet and flicking through it absent-mindedly.

"Derek," he said, trying out the name, testing how it sounded on his tongue.

Derek was struggling to hold himself upright.

"Nice name," Stiles continued, "I figured I couldn't keep calling you 'hot bearded florist' in my head. Derek is good. It suits you."

Derek could swear that he heard Erica snort from the inventory, and added kicking the shit out of her to his mental list. That was once he had got his heart back to a normal rate.

"I… um… did you want some flowers?"

Jesus, Derek, pull yourself together you are a grown man.

Stiles actually laughed at that. A full on belly-laugh.

"I'm sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?" Stiles continued, the look on his face making it obvious that he was not sorry. Not at all.

"I don't suppose you have any cherry blossom? My sister is getting engaged next week and I want to get her something…"

Cherry blossom. Did they have any cherry blossom? Derek glanced at the clipboard in his hand, trying to stop his hands from shaking because had Stiles really just called him hot? Chrysanthemums, Coreopsis, Cherry blossom, there it was.

"Yeah, yes we've got cherry blossom… let me just give it to you… I mean… get it for you…Shit."

And with that, Derek scurried off into the storage room, sweat running down his back. Erica was stood there with a cherry blossom sapling in her hand, ready for him. He mentally checked kicking the shit out of her off his list, because holy hell, he appreciated the shit out of that.

Grabbing the cherry blossom and mouthing a heartfelt, "Thank you," he rushed back into the front of the shop to see Stiles sat in his office chair with his feet rested up on the desk.

"Cherry blossom." Derek said stupidly, holding the baby tree up.

"Yes. I can see that." Stiles answered, the top of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile that made Derek's heart stop in its tracks. Stiles stood up and walked towards Derek, almost predatorily, and Derek found himself nervously taking a step back, knocking his foot on a vine on the floor, and falling headfirst into Stiles' chest, cherry blossom and all.

"Fuck." He muttered, uprighting himself, and refusing to look directly into Stiles' eyes. He was positive that his face was burning as red as a tomato.

Finally bringing himself to look up, Derek saw that Stiles was holding in laughter, his shirt, this time blue, covered in cherry blossom petals.

"And I really liked this shirt…" he muttered, finally breaking into a beaming smile and looking directly at Derek, his brown eyes staring deep into Derek's green.

"Shit, I'm SO sorry!" exclaimed Derek, picking the blossoms off Stiles' torso, and trying in vain to not notice how goddamn HARD that guy's chest was. Holy hell.

Stiles chuckled, and joined in, picking off the small pink petals, "Don't worry about it, Derek, honestly…"

Derek didn't respond, he simply continued to pick off all of the timy little petals now clinging to the younger man's upper body.

"Just let me de-flower you and then I'll continue our conversation."

He felt Stiles stiffen under his touch, and inwardly cursed himself.

Why the fuck did he say that why the fuck did he say that holy shit Derek get your bloody head in the game good lord.

"Is that a promise?"

Derek froze, then straightened himself up and looked straight into Stiles' eyes.

"Only if you want it to be."

Okay. Okay this was happening. Calm down, Derek, calm down.

Stiles broke out into one of his blinding grins, took the pot of cherry blossom from Derek, placed it calmly on a shelf behind him, then took a step forwards, so their chests were touching, and brought his lips to the taller man's.

Derek stepped back in surprise, his broad shoulders crashing into the shelf behind him, and knocking over the pot of cherry blossom, sending it crashing to the floor.

"Fucking hell…" he muttered, and Stiles laughed, shaking his head.

"If you didn't break anything during our first kiss, I wouldn't believe that it was really you, Derek."

Derek let out a smile, one that finally reached his eyes.

"Well now we're going to have to get you another cherry blossom…"

Stiles' eyebrow quirked up in confusion.

"You know..." continued Derek, "For your sister's engagement."

Stiles barked out a laugh, and weaved his hand around Derek's neck, making the hairs stand on end, and took a step closer, pushing Derek's back into the wall.

"I haven't got a sister." He whispered.

"But, but it was her birthday… and you said that she-"

"I made her up to come and see you, you idiot." Stiles explained, "The purple lilies sat on my bedside table for two weeks until I could pluck up the courage to come and see you again."

Derek's eyebrows raised in surprise.

Oh.

Stiles leant in for another kiss, and this time, Derek was absolutely sure not to break anything.


End file.
